


Roaming

by dumdumbrendon



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 21:03:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 13,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16312676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumdumbrendon/pseuds/dumdumbrendon
Summary: A collection of sickfics all centered around Bucky. Most are short.





	1. The One with Strep Throat

In the beginning of the week, Bucky’s tired. He’s tired and worn down, and he knows he shouldn’t take the extra shift but he does anyway. Steve’s out of town on a mission with Nat and Sam, and he’s lonely. His apartment is quiet without Steve around, and frankly, he doesn’t want to wallow, even though he knows if he goes home he will. So- he picks up an extra shift.

There’s been a lot of run of the mill injuries, a few family members of workers with illnesses, nothing too big or exciting. And honestly, Bucky is thankful. It’s only Tuesday, but he’s tired like it’s Friday. He indulges himself with a Stark coffee on his break instead of the usual k-cup pod, even going as far as to get himself a nice salad too. The cashier smiles warmly at him as she calls out his name. He’s in his scrubs (it’s navy blue today) and he sweeps back some hair from his face as he returns the smile, even if it’s not as bright. 

He takes his break and then works another eleven hours when a Shield Academy student is  is rushed in from having fallen during a flight test. Bucky and two doctors have to use the crash cart on him three times. He’s thankful it looks like the guy will be making a full recovery- the loss of a person’s life in Shield is a hard hit.

He’s exhausted by the time he’s towel-drying his hair in the locker room, dressed in sweatpants and a white tee. His body feels achy and his throat is dry. He picks up a bottle of water as he tries to decide if he wants to go all the way back to his place or crash at Steve’s.

His boyfriend’s place wins out, and soon Bucky is leaning his head against plush elevator walls, the silence that’s enveloping him welcoming. There’s a small headache that’s starting to pulse near his temple. Bucky uses his access card to get into the upper levels of the Avengers Tower and into Steve’s place. Though it’s not overly decorated or homey, it still smells like his guy and that alone makes Bucky sleepy and ready to get under covers.

Buck’s got another shift in eight hours and the decision to stay at Steve’s is based on that. Sort of. That and he misses Steve and the smell of him and his blankets being close to Bucky all night makes Bucky grow warm.

He texts a quick note to Steve, letting him know how his day had gone and that he loved him, before curling up and letting an old movie that Steve had managed to find lull him to sleep.

_______________________

When he wakes up, he feels  _gross_. Gross like he’s slept too long and can’t wake up. The aches from his previous shift haven’t dissipated, if anything they’ve gotten worse. His throat’s sore, not stinging in pain, but a dull intense ache in the back and sides of his throat. He swallows and winces, noting how swollen and raw it feels. Bucky feels a little shivery too, and his stomach’s unsettled.

Bucky’s got two hours before his shift, and normally, he’d grab the novel out of his bag and try to get some reading in, or make himself some food. But he takes one look at the clock, notes how long he has, and smushes his face back into Steve’s pillow, a small cough working it’s way out from his throat.

He turns onto his back and lets his hand rest on the back of his forehead. He briefly wonders if he’s running a fever, but he knows logically that feeling his own forehead won’t do any good. Bucky knows Steve has a thermometer, he was the one who’d put it in his medicine cabinet when he’d seen how little Steve had accumulated. Super soldier or not, he’d needed one. And it was about to come in handy.

Bucky gets up and feels kind of like Bambi on ice, shaky and off kilter, unsteady. He feels a little better after being upright for more than a few seconds and he goes to Steve’s bathroom. Finding the digital instrument, he washes the tip off and then turns it on, popping it into his mouth. He waits anxiously- he’s never been good at being sick-, and when it beeps he feels his body deflate. 101.3. Not too bad, but definitely a fever.

Running through how he’s feeling, he tries to decide what the best plan of action to take is. He’s achy and lethargic, his throat hurts like a bitch, his glands feel swollen. Sighing, he sends a quick text to the director that oversees his department and lets him know he’ll be in soon to get a strep test done, but he’s definitely not going to be able to make it in for his shift.

Dressing just a bit too warmly in Steve’s sweater and his own jeans, he notices two texts. One in from his boss, letting him know the shift will be taken care of and that a culture will be ready to be taken. The second is from Steve. First there’s a picture of he and Sam, looking exhausted but happy in the quinjet. Bucky smiles despite his general ill-feelings, and then reads the text that follows.

S.R: We finished!! We’ll be home in a few hours. Nat says hello. I love you!

He sees that it was sent over two hours ago, when he was asleep, which means Steve should be here soon. Thinking for a moment, he clicks the microphone button in the left corner and dictates his text.

B.B: Sounds great punk, let me know when you’re out of debrief. Not feeling so well, going to get a strep test. Throat hurts like a bitch. Love you too.

Even as he says it out loud, Bucky cringes at how he has to admit to not feeling well. At least he does though. He’s a nurse for christ sake, he’s not like Steve, who tries to hide every illness ever. Bucky may not enjoy having people know he’s sick, but at least he’ll admit to it.  

He tucks the phone in his back pocket and makes his way out of the resident floor and down to where Shield’s med bay is. Bucky already feels a little woozy by the time he’s walking into the clinic. He spots Angela, another nurse, and waves sheepishly.

“You alright there white boy?” She says with a raised eyebrow. He knows he looks a mess, bed-rumpled and glassy eyes, feverish cheeks and pale skin.

“I uh,” he has to take a second and clear his throat, which only makes it hurt worse. “I’m sick, pretty sure I have strep,” Bucky speaks as he takes a white mask, pulling the string up over his ears to hook it to his face. He’d feel doubly awful if anyone else were to catch it.

She makes a tsk’ing noise and ushers him into an open room in the back. He sits in the chair next to the examination table, not wanting to lose all of his pride. She grabs the first doctor she finds, Dr.Sellinger, who looks sympathetically at Bucky as he takes out the swabs from their plastic packaging.

“I’ve seen a few people with strep recently, wouldn’t be surprised,” the older man says, shaking his head as Bucky opens his mouth. Dr.Sellinger makes a small noise at the bright red and swollen pallet that is Bucky’s throat, before swabbing it. Bucky gags slightly and coughs when the man finishes, thankful as Angela passes him some water. He sips it slowly, trying not to embarrass himself too much.

They leave him alone and he lets his eyes droop closed, body shivering again. He’s not sure how long he sits there, waiting for the test to be confirmed, but the long haired man looks up when he hears the door open.

It’s not Angela or Dr.Sallinger though, it’s Steve. Complete in his dark navy stealth suit, hair messy and eyes concerned. Before Bucky can even think to move, Steve’s crouching down beside him, one large palm resting on his guys cheek.

“Honey,” Steve says, voice laced with worry. Bucky leans into his touch, coughing just a little.

“Shouldn’t you be debriefing?” Bucky finally asks. Steve shrugs like nothing else matters except being here, and really, if you asked Steve, that would be his answer.

“I’ll talk to Fury later. Sam and Nat said I should come see you,” Steve says earnestly, and Bucky can’t help but give a little huff of laughter.

“Did they say that because you told them I was sick, or because you started freaking out and they just knew something was wrong?”

Steve gives Bucky a bashful look and Bucky wraps his arm around his guy pulling him a little closer. Steve, for his part, lets on hand drift to Bucky’s hair to pet it. He shifts up to the seat next to Bucky’s and continues.

Dr.Sallinger walks in and gives Steve a nod.

“Nice to see you not injured this time, Captain.”

Steve looks a little embarrassed and lets his arm hold Bucky a little tighter. The doctor turns his attention to his sick colleague.

“You were right. Test lit up like a christmas tree. I’ll write a scrip for you for a z-pack. Take it till it runs out. Rest up and get better,” he says, giving Bucky a pat on the back. He hands him the small paper with the prescription on it and then leaves to tend to other patients.

“Alright. How bad do you feel? Think we can make a small trip to the store? Are you up for it? Or I can go and get some soup and have that filled. Do you want to go to your place? Might be more comfortable…”

Bucky looks at Steve as he talks, wondering how he got so lucky. His guy wants to help so bad, and really, it’s endearing. He’s sure it’ll get annoying after the seven hundredth question, but for now, he’ll take it.

“Can we go to my place? I don’t mind going to the store with you. Missed you..” he trails off, body shaking from his fever. Steve makes a small noise and presses a kiss to Bucky’s flushed cheek.

_______________________

“Alright, come on, just-yeah, tuck in,  _there_  we go,” Steve’s on Bucky’s couch, freshly showered and changed. Bucky’s in new sweats and a long sleeve henley, his left sleeve pinned. They’d gone by the store and grabbed some soup and popsicles- red white and blue Stevie! Just like you!-, along with Bucky’s medicine. Then they’d taken a cab back into Brooklyn because Steve was worried about Bucky being in a huge crowd of people while not feeling well.

Bucky curls close, head tucked into Steve’s shoulder, hair loosely in a bun. He snuggles a little closer and lets his fingers find his guys, lacing them. He’s tired and sick but he doesn’t want to be anywhere else. The soup Steve heated up was good and now he’s drowsy from illness and comfort.

“Sleep. I’m here. You’re safe.”


	2. The One with Over Protective Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fussy Steve and a sick Bucky.

Would you stop? I’m fine,  _seriously_ ,” Bucky huffs as he and Steve walk through the door of their tiny apartment they share with Tony (another engineering student like Bucky) and Thor (a study abroad student studying communications). It’s a nice apartment all things considered- on campus, close to the dining hall, not too far for Steve who has to go across campus for his art studio time. 

Right now, Bucky’s quietly thankful it’s warm. Tony obviously called the maintenance people because it had been absolutely frigid before they’d left for their classes that morning. Steve is behind him, all but herding him like he’s a sheep dog.

“Says the guy who almost passed out getting back here,” Steve says challengingly, looking at his poor guy who’s been getting sicker and sicker throughout the day. That morning, he’d woken up to Bucky coughing in their bed, looking a little pale and wan. 

Now, as he surveys him, Steve realizes this is more than a little illness. Bucky’s visibly sick. Too pale, too flushed. He looks like he’s barely standing. Steve wraps an arm around him and ushers him past their small shared kitchen and living area, and into one of three bedrooms in their place. He and Bucky had moved in with Thor and Tony last semester, and they’d all gotten along great. 

Bucky goes pretty willingly, another testament to how sick he must feel, but it’s short lived. Once he sits down on the bed, Buck pulls out his laptop from his bag and opens it, rubbing his eyes as it starts up. 

“Stop looking at me like that Rogers. I’m fine. I need to write my paper for  my chem lab, and I have a quiz due for physics,” Bucky’s voice trails off as he coughs again, a shiver tearing through his body. He sets his laptop down and pulls a blanket up around his shoulders, over his thin henley. 

“You’re sick Buck. I think that trumps work,” Steve fights back, but Bucky seemingly ignores him, starting to type on the key board. 

“You’re a fuckin’ stubborn son of a bitch,” Steve growls, though there’s no real heat behind the words as he goes to their bathroom to shower. 

When he comes back out, twenty minutes later, warm and heated pink, Bucky is asleep, laptop still on his lap. His head is tipped back against one of Steve’s pillows, cheeks cherry red. Steve walks over and moves the laptop gently, resting a large palm against his boyfriend’s forehead. 

“What am I gonna do with you hmm?” He whispers, moving so he can slide under the covers and hold Bucky close. 


	3. The One Where Everyone Worries Over Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't like polyamory, skip this chapter :)

“ _Jesus_ , sit down cyborg, before you pass out,” Tony’s voice travels to where Bucky is standing, looking woozy and feverish and all too sick. The long haired soldier looks up, eyes dull with fever and he slowly moves to the couch. The one that’s currently being preoccupied by Steve, Thor and Bruce. 

Bucky curls up in between Bruce and Steve, hands poking out of the sleeves of his sweater, or really, Steve’s sweater. He leans a little closer when Bruce suddenly puts a hand on his forehead. 

“Definitely a fever. How’re you feeling James?” 

Bucky shrugs and his body forces a shiver that wracks his frame. To be honest, Bucky feels like absolute shit. His throat’s sore, he’s feverish and weak, he feels kind of nauseous and shaky. His whole body aches. Body sagging against Steve’s, He lets his eyes shut and the next thing he’s aware of is Tony pushing tea into his hands.

Making a small, somewhat confused noise, Bucky’s eyes open and he’s ready to get annoyed, but the spark dies when he see’s that Tony’s trying to be nice. He takes the cup gratefully and relaxes even more when Nat puts a warm blanket around him. 

He thanks her in Russian, voice tired as another tremble goes through his body. Steve frowns harder and runs a hand through his hair, hoping to convey the idea that they’re all there for him, that Hydra won’t get him. 

Bucky’s eyes slip shut and Thor manages to grab his cup of tea before it sloshes everywhere. Tony rolls his eyes and Bruce runs a hand through Bucky’s hair and then smiles at Steve. 

“Good thing we all love him so much.” 

Steve nods, kissing Bucky’s too warm cheek. “Poor thing is so sick,” he mumbles as he takes Bucky’s appearance in again. 

“He’ll get better Cap, promise. If not, we can run some diagnostics.” Tony promises, smiling as he takes the cup of tea from Thor, sitting it down on the coffee table. Bruce is right. Bucky has them all, and they’ll all make sure he feels better.


	4. The One With SoftShieldAgent Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a whole verse of itself, but basically Bucky is very small here, and works for SHIELD. He's boyfriends with Captain America. If you've seen The Martian, he's very Beck-ish here!

 

> Steve’s sitting at the kitchen table, reading news from his tablet and waiting for Bucky to get up. It’s a rare Saturday off of work for the both of them, and they’d decided last night to get some shopping done today and then maybe go out somewhere for lunch. It’s currently almost ten in the morning and Steve’s surprised Bucky’s not already up and moving about.
> 
> Out of the two of them, Steve’s definitely the morning person. But Bucky’s usually always up before nine, if he can help it. Apparently today is not one of those days.
> 
> Steve finishes his bowl of Special K and rinses the milk out of it, holds the spoon under water a moment and places both items in the dishwasher. He’s still in his pajama pants and a white tee, so he pads back to the bedroom and quietly opens the door.
> 
> He’s surprised to see Bucky’s still asleep. He’s assumed that maybe Bucky was getting ready but no. He’s still blissfully unconscious. Steve also knows his guy, has known him since they were kids. He’ll be pissed if he wakes up too late and feels like he could have accomplished more. Crawling onto their queen sized bed, Steve moves in and wraps his arms around the pile of blankets and messy hair, pressing a kiss to the other man’s temple.

“Baby boy, wake up. We need to start with our errands soon if we want to go out to eat,” Steve says really softly, lips against Bucky’s soft, short hair. He sees blue grey eyes blink awake. He expects a smile and a kiss, maybe a quick snuggle. Steve doesn’t get that.

What he does get is Bucky frowning and pushing him away, and then grumbling as he gets up, stumbling to the bathroom to pee and brush his teeth. Steve sits there stunned a moment.

Here’s the thing about Bucky Barnes. He’s quiet, soft and so so so sweet. Since they were kids, they’ve settled into their roles. Steve is kind and can be polite and charming, but he’s also got a temper and a mean stubborn streak. He’ll go against authority if it means doing what he believes is right. He’ll put people in their place and tell it like it is.

Bucky though- god, he’s exhaustively good. He’s shy and unsure, he’s kind and sweet, even to people who don’t deserve it. Bucky will go out of his way to make sure everyone is happy with him, and happy in general. He’ll run himself into the ground to make sure he’s done the right thing. He’s unfailingly understanding, never yells or gets too angry.

When they fight, it’s more petty arguments, and even then it’s more Bucky trying to get where Steve is coming from when he makes a decision for them. They’ve always managed to agree on big things. ‘Fights’ always end up alright, and they always end up even stronger than before.

Steve can recall barely a handful of times Bucky’s been outright angry or mad. There’s the time Becca had outed him to the whole Barnes family. No one had been unaccepting, but Bucky has been thirteen and scared and Steve had assured him the anger was valid; he himself would have been livid. There’s the time Bucky’s father had passed away due to a drunk driver. Steve remembers being there and hearing the cuss words stumble out of his boyfriend's’ mouth, foreign and so angry, as Bucky yelled at the man who’d taken part of his heart away, at the hospital.

Needless to say, Bucky’s always been the one to talk things out, and Steve has always been the one to get angry and offended on others behalf, not just his own.

So that’s why Steve’s still sitting on the bed, wracking his brain to try and recall if anything’s happened in the past day, when Bucky walks out of their bathroom.

“Babe, you alright?” Steve asks, feeling worry settle in his stomach.

“I’m fine Rogers, you don’t need to constantly breathe down my neck ok?” And with that, Bucky’s stalking to the kitchen. Steve hears him pull out a bowl and spoon, and then what Steve assumes is frosted mini wheats.

He’s not sure if he should let Bucky have some more time alone. It’s definitely unlike him to be so irritated, especially this early in the morning. They’d gone to bed happy and sleepy, curled up in one another, so why does it feel like they’re on two different pages now?

Steve sighs and jumps in the shower. He takes longer than usual so Bucky has time to cool down. By the time he’s out and pulling clothes on, Bucky’s making his own way into the bathroom. Steve pulls on some dark jeans and a black soft tee from JCrew, one Bucky had bought him a few months back because he’d been looking at them but felt wrong spending thirty dollars for a plain tee. Buck had taken the shirt from him, rolled his eyes fondly, and walked right up to the cashier and paid before Steve had fully processed what happened.

The older man walks back out from the bathroom a short six minutes later, only clean underwear on.

“Thanks for leaving so much hot water,” Bucky growls, opening his top dresser drawer roughly. Steve watches Bucky blindly pull out a shirt and tug it on. It’s one of Steve’s favorites on his guy. The soft material’s a sky blue, long sleeve Henley with thin, white stripes. It makes Bucky’s eyes look even more blue than they are.

“I…ok, what’s your problem?” Steve flounders for a second before deciding to take the bull by the horns. Again. Steve’s always been upfront. Bucky turns as he pushes the top drawer back in and goes to the bottom one, pulling out khaki’s.

“I just told you the problem Steven, you didn’t leave any hot water,” Bucky glares, glares, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Okay, yeah, because you knew before you even showered that there wasn’t hot water? Seriously Bucky, what the hell is going on?” Steve levels the glare back. He watches as Bucky looks more frustrated and then sighs.

“Nothing. Sorry, Jesus. Just leave it alone. Let’s go to Target and get the shit we need, alright?”

Steve can hear the slight desperation in his boyfriends tone, so he drops it. He’s right. They need to go do their errands and fighting the whole time isn’t going to help. Bucky pulls on his pants and goes to dry his hair, leaving Steve in the bedroom once again.

***********

“Just get the damn regular ones Steve. Paying a dollar more for the name brand isn’t going to kill you,” Bucky bites out. The whole shopping trip is like pulling teeth. Steve’s been grabbing what they need- comparing prices like always, and Bucky’s been doing nothing but arguing the whole time. It’s putting Steve in a bad mood and he’s trying hard not to let it go any farther than it already has.

Steve puts the name brand protein bars into the cart and then moves on to the cereal aisle.

“We don’t need any more cereal,” he hears Bucky grumble under his breath and that’s the last straw.  Steve flips around, and after seeing no one else nearby, he points a finger at his overly grumpy boyfriend.

“Alright, why don’t you go look somewhere else so

I don’t yell at you right now, okay? Your attitude is pissing me off and I want to finish shopping in peace.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, stuffs his hands into the warm jacket he’s wearing and stalks off to the homegoods section. Steve lets out a low sign, rubbing his forehead. What. The. Fuck.

************

Bucky stalks off to the homegoods section, body tense as he makes his way to bedding. He’s tired. His whole body aches and his throat’s sore. He feels shivery and a dull throb is making its presence known in the side of his head. He doesn’t feel good.

Wrapping his arms around himself, he looks at the sheets idly and then moves to the comforters. He should tell Steve he’s not feeling well, but he’s already aggravated him enough. Sniffling softly, Bucky wanders around the store, and finds himself in the men’s clothing department, looking at different sweatshirts. A particularly soft one catches his eye, deep maroon and a little oversized, and he picks it up, deciding on a medium before pulling his phone out. He sends Steve a quick ‘where r u’ text and then makes his way to the front.

Bucky feels congestion shift in his head as he walks and barely manages to pull an arm up to his mouth and nose before a few stuffy sounding sneezes work their way out. Bucky rubs at his nose and shivers, holding the sweatshirt a little tighter. He’s too tired to even try and be in his previous unwanted mood when Steve finds him killing time looking at magazines.

“You ready?” Steve asks tersely and Bucky nods, staying quiet. They go to the self checkout and Bucky hesitantly scans the sweatshirt he’s been holding once Steve rings up everything else. Steve looks at him but doesn’t protest so he puts it in a bag and then pulls out his wallet. They share a bank account, something both of them found kind of obvious, since they both get paid by Shield and have grown up in each others pockets anyway.

Bucky pays and picks up half the bags as they make their way back out to Steve’s Honda. He wants to apologize for how he’s acted but his throats too sore and Steve still seems miffed, so he doesn’t say anything, instead opting to put everything in the back and then open Steve’s door for him. He earns a small smile from the blond, so that’s something at least.

They’re in the middle of driving to what Bucky assumes is lunch, when his nose twitches and he sniffles a few times, damp and itchy. He opens then glove box and pulls out a travel sized thing of tissues Steve always keeps in there, mostly for allergy season, and quickly gets one out of the soft plastic. Bucky rubs at his nose through the soft fabric and sniffles one last time, the itch finally taking over fully.

Bucky finishes off with a quick apology and a soft nose blow, putting the crumpled tissue into his jacket pocket.

***************

Bucky’s sneezes sound tired and kind of like he’s getting sick. When they were younger, it was always Steve who was sick. Always. He’d suffered through so much as a kid with his terrible immune system, his bad lungs and eyes and ears. Then he’d gone through the trial and the new meds and had come out almost a whole new person. Physically, at least. Bucky was always by his side, no matter what. He’d only ever gotten sick a few times from all the illnesses Steve had contracted.

Steve looks over and sees the tired look on Bucky’s face as he watches cars go by. He watches as his nostrils flare slightly and Bucky rubs his knuckles against them to fight whatever is bothering him.

Bucky, even now, doesn’t get sick often. It’s a rare thing, maybe once a year. Their third year of high school Bucky had ended up with bronchitis and then three weeks later he’d come down with the flu. Since then, it’s like his body is immune to germs.

Parking the car in the parking lot of a small, locally owned cafe he and Buck like to go to, Steve turns and faces the other man.

“Hey…I love you, you know that right?”

Bucky knits his eyebrows together. “Course I do punk. Let’s eat, yeah?”

He still sounds a little annoyed, but that could also just be Steve reading into things too much, a talent of his. Nodding, he gets out and walks in with Bucky. They come to the cafe enough that they both have usuals. As they wait in the small line to order, Steve sees Bucky looking at the menu.

“Not getting the French dip today?” He asks curiously, and Bucky shakes his head.

“Soup sounds good,” Bucky shrugs, and Steve watches him rub at his nose again before walking up to the open cashier. Steve orders after him and then on a whim, he orders a milkshake for the both of them to share. Maybe that’ll help the last of the residual tension between them.

Steve takes the shake and their order number to a booth near the back. Bucky grabs napkins and cutlery. He assumes his boyfriend will sit across from him but when Bucky moves to sit, it’s actually next to him, both squished in one side.

He’s even more surprised when Bucky let’s his head rest on Steve’s shoulder. Completely and utterly melted, Steve wraps an arm around his boy and kisses his temple.

“Sweet boy. There he is,” Steve teases. Bucky looks like he’s going to respond but then he lets out a few small coughs and snaps his head down away from Steve, sneezing. 

Steve keeps his arm tightly around Bucky, who’s still sniffling like he needs to sneeze again. He runs a hand through Bucky’s hair, surprised to feel unnatural warmth coming from his forehead. Now it makes sense. And now Steve feels like the biggest ass on the planet.

“Honey,” Chris murmurs, and Bucky, looking like he’s been caught, turns his head back into Steve’s shoulder.

“I don’t feel good,” Steve finally hears Bucky say, so softly it makes Steve’s heart stutter.

“I know baby. I’m so sorry. Do you wanna go? I can get our food to go..” he rambles off and Bucky shakes his head.

“No, we can go after. Wanna stay here with you,” he explains, another full body shiver making him feel even worse.

Steve kisses his temple again and they wait for the food.

***********

They’re on their way home when Bucky’s nose twitches again. The cold DC air makes it twitch and Steve’s sure the germs in Bucky’s head aren’t helping his cause. He stops walking when Bucky stumbles a bit, too distracted with the tickle to try and do two things at once. Steve puts his arms on his guys shoulders, steadying him a bit.

“Tissue?” Bucky asks, letting his fingers rub at the tip and flaring nostrils, already pink and slightly damp from the cold he’s caught. Steve’s hands check his front and then back pockets, coming up with nothing. He tries to think of something but Bucky’s already pressing his own sweater sleeve to face. The material looks rough, Steve thinks, as Bucky succumbs to the itch and sneezes, none sounding helpful or productive.

He scrunches his nose up, and Steve can’t help but rub his back, pressing another kiss to his temple.

“Poor baby boy. You must feel awful. Let’s get you home, before you asthma starts getting worked up” Steve says lovingly, petting Bucky’s hair at the nape of his neck.


	5. The One Where Steve Brings Bucky Breakfast In Bed (Even Though It's Past Breakfast)

“Thought you;d like this, might be easy on your poor throat,” Steve murmurs, setting down a silver tray that has a plate on it, along with a cup of apple juice. The plate contains two pieces of bread with strawberry jelly, a banana and some oatmeal. 

“Y-You brought me breakfast in bed?” Bucky asks, cheeks pink with fever. He’s been laid up in bed for two days feeling lousy. It’s not the flu, but it’s worse than a cold. It’s mostly a fever, sore throat , and body aches. Bucky seems to have been hit hard though- the whole afternoon Steve’s been back from a mission has been spent in silence, with Bucky dozing on his shoulder, warm cheeked and soft. 

“’Course I did ya mook. You seem miserable and I know you like oatmeal when you feel shitty,” Steve murmurs, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s forehead, noting his temp hasn’t gone down. Bucky lets out a low, almost wheezy cough into his arm and then takes a cautious bite of the oatmeal. 

“Thank you. Tastes like your ma’s used to.” 

Steve feels his heart swell and he wraps an arm around Buck. 

“I love you, especially when you’re all miserable and sentimental.”


	6. The One Where Bucky Gets Sick Post Mission

“You alright Barnes?” Sam asks as the Quinjet starts getting unloaded. He and Bucky have just gotten back from a three day mission and the elder seems to have taken it pretty hard. Sam watches as Bucky stands up and shrugs, pale, and dark circles under his eyes. 

“Fine,” Bucky finally speaks, but it sounds low and rough, like it hurts to talk. Sam thinks about it as he grabs his stuff. His eyes glance towards Bucky again and he frowns at how tired he looks, and he’s only grabbing his duffel bag. It looks like the bag must weigh a thousand pounds, from how Bucky takes it. 

Sam doesn’t say much else as they walk into the Shield HQ, Barnes following him slowly behind. Sam turns to tell the man to hurry up in a joking way, so he understands he’s not serious, but stops when he see’s Bucky frozen in his spot, right hand loosely brought up to his mouth, eyes shut, sneezing. 

Bucky sniffles a few more times, shoots Sam a look as if to say ‘what, can’t I sneeze without you getting upset’ and then walks past him. Sam doesn’t see him again until he’s gone to the locker room, changed, and is walking into Fury’s office for debrief. 

Bucky’s already there, in jeans and a warm looking sweater he’s pretty sure is Steve’s. Or maybe Thors. He’s drooped in the left seat across from Fury’s desk, dark hair framing his pale face, nose pink. 

Looking around and noting the director isn’t in the room yet, Sam sighs and walks over. 

“You look like shit. Does Steve know?” 

Bucky blinks up, looking entirely too sick and exhausted to be here. 

“Dno..he uh, He’s busy..” Bucky lets out a few coughs, low and raspy. It makes Sam’s heart clench. 

“Well then, looks like I’m on soup duty.”


	7. The One Where Steve is Fussy During a Mission

“Sam, you find him?” Bucky fights the urge to rub his nose as his sinuses throb, so he clears his throat instead. He’s been fighting this cold for the past couple of days, and this morning, after arriving in Berlin to take down a new hydra base that’s popped up, it seems to have really hit him hard. 

Bucky is good at what he does, and obviously a cold isn’t going to impede on that. He won’t let it. So he ignores the sneezes that make him stuffy and foggy headed, ignores the sore throat and achy body in favor of killing nazi’s. They’re in the middle of clearing the premises and the cold is definitely making his nose more sensitive. The dust that’s collecting around the whole facility is making his nose runny, and that, coupled with the already intense stuffiness is making him sneeze every few minutes. 

Snuffling into his shoulder as he rounds a corner, he hears Steve start talking int he comm. 

“Three headed your way Buck. No guns, but one has a stun baton,” he says in his ‘Cap Voice’. Bucky presses the back of his gloved hand up against his nose, the tickle increasing as he gets ready for the incoming company. 

The tickle make his whole head itch and he presses his arm up to his face, nose running as he sneezes again. He hears the enemies approach and snaps his face up, coughing a little as he dodges a hit from one. Bucky manages to take the three out in less than twenty seconds, disarming the baton and kicking it away. A shiver tears through his body and he grunts as he pulls a key card out of one of the men’s pockets and then throws him back on the floor. 

As he’s walking, Steve meets up with him from another corridor and frowns, putting a hand to his face as they pause. 

“Bucky,” he murmurs softly, watching as his guy struggles to keep a new pair of ticklish sneezes at bay. Steve knows he’s lost the battle when Bucky’s nostrils quiver in and he brings his arm up again, turning away from Steve. 

Steve pets at Bucky’s hair a bit and presses a quick kiss to his forehead. 

“God bless you honey. When we’re done we’ll get some food before flying back,” Steve promises, rubbing his back a little more when Bucky tenses again and manages to fight a sneeze. He’s got that worn down, i have a cold look, Steve thinks, and he can’t help but squeeze his hand. 

“Y-Yeah, ‘kay. Let’s go kick some nazi ass.” 


	8. The One Where SoftShieldAgent Bucky Has Asthma

**1\. Perfume  
**

They’re all in the tower, celebrating Tony’s birthday. Bucky thinks the only reason he’s been asked is because he’s basically attached to Steve’s hip- but Clint assures him Tony’s actually pretty fond of him. He’s not sure what to do with this information.

As per a Stark party, there’s alcohol and food and plenty of people, even though Tony had said it would just be his closest friends. Everything is lavish and high quality, and Bucky feels out of place in his JCrew slacks and button down. Steve’s pretty close to the same when it comes to clothing, and, after looking around, Bucky notices most others are dressed similarly. Even Tony has on a band tee under his blazer.

As the night progresses, everyone seems to relax a little- going from ‘this is my bosses party’ to ‘this is my friends party’. There’s some music on and most of the Avengers have congregated into a corner on a couch. Clint, Nat, Bucky and Steve are all on one side and Nat’s got an arm around Bucky’s shoulder, whispering something in Russian.

He can smell her perfume- jasmine and something else, and it smells good, but it also gets stuck in his throat and when he clears it, it doesn’t help. He wills himself to take more shallow breaths and try to ignore the scent that Natasha is exuding, instead paying attention to all the conversations.

Bucky gets about twenty more minutes into the conversation before his asthma starts really acting up. He gives a cough and it’s more strangled than he means it to be. There’s an itch in the back of his throat and his chest feels tight. Shifting away a little, he grabs his glass and downs the last of his champagne.

It’s Tony who ultimately notices something is wrong. Steve’s been engrossed in a conversation with Thor and Nat and Barnes are still close, but he notices that Barnes’s face is a little too flushed for the color to be coming from alcohol.

“Hey Barnes, you alright there champ?” Tony asks, and suddenly all eyes are on him. The long haired man clears his voice and tries to say something but it’s as if suddenly everything is too tight.

“Bucky? Buck, hey, look at me…” Steve says, suddenly very much present and aware that his boyfriend has been battling with an asthma attack. Bucky inhales and the wheeze that emanates from his chest instantly makes Nat frown.

“What’s getting to you?”

Bucky looks sheepish as he coughs again and then speaks.

“Your perfume, I think,” he mumbles, letting Steve prime his inhaler and puff it into the air before he takes it with his hand, pushing the plastic tube between his lips.

Bucky inhales and thinks about how embarrassing it is to have probably ruined Tony’s birthday. Nat gets up to wash her neck off, not wanting to aggravate Bucky’s asthma any more. Steve keeps him close for the rest of his night, even when his airway isn’t as muddled.

**2\. Smoke**

Bucky usually stays back in Shield HQ when Steve’s on a mission. But today, they’d sent him out onto the field to help get a better look at some of the weaponry and technological advances that the enemies were using. Bucky doesn’t mind the field every once in a while, in fact, it’s a breath of fresh air. Well. Not literally.

Because right now, they’re dealing with a bomb that’s just gone off and taken half of a building with it. Bucky doesn’t even think about all the smoke and ash until he’s helping civilians off the street and he takes a breath in and realizes he can’t really breathe. He gives a cough, and then a harder cough, and when he tries to inhale, the amount of air that’s taken in is barely anything. His chest clenches and he knows this is bad. He needs to get into a building and use his inhaler, maybe even his albuterol inhaler.

He keeps breathing in the smoke and ash and soon lack of oxygen is making him a little dizzy. Swallowing thickly, he tries to find Steve but can’t. Everything is hazy and there are people everywhere running. He stumbles into a small store that’s next to him. No one’s there, everyone’s already evacuated, and he coughs harshly, over and over until he’s gagging. He needs to stay calm. Take his inhaler.

Bucky fumbles through his small pack on his hip and digs out the blue inhaler. Fuck it. He’s going straight to the albuterol one.  He shakes it a little desperately and puts it to his mouth, inhales and holds it for what feels like three seconds before he’s coughing again. He repeats the action two more times, finally managing to get up to seven seconds of held breath. Still. That’s nowhere near good enough.

He sits against a brick wall, trying to calm himself down. Freaking out won’t do him any good. Bucky doesn’t realize there’s anyone inside until he feels a large hand on his shoulder. His head whips up. He’s not sure what he’ll do if it’s one of the guys wreaking havoc. He can barely control his coughs.

Thor is standing there, worry all over his face.

“James, you’re in need of medical help,” he says instantly, and Bucky, too weak and out of breath to argue, nods. Normally he’d fight back and tell anyone who tried to help that he’s got it. But right now he doesn’t have it. Not even remotely. He hears Thor say something in the com before his knees buckle and he falls forward.

When Bucky wakes up, there’s a mask on his face. He hears Tony and Nat talking behind him and when he opens his eyes, Sam and Steve are both right there. They’re in the quinjet, and Thor is yelling at Tony to get there faster. Wherever there is. Steve grabs his hand and says something but everything is going fuzzy again and he lets himself fall back asleep.


	9. The One with the PTSD Setback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers for vomiting and ptsd, so if you have issues with either of these things, skip this chapter :)

Bucky’s head is aching as he steps into his and Steve’s apartment. He’d gone to get lunch with Sam, which had gone better than he’d expected. No Steve to force him to eat what he didn’t want. He managed to get half a bowl of soup and even some crackers down. He’s been working on keeping a list of what his stomach will and won’t tolerate. Apparently vegetable soup can go on the will side. **  
**

After lunch, he’d made his way to PT and then therapy. His therapist, Jenny, had let him talk mostly about things he’d wanted to today, instead of delving into more complicated issues. They’d made a goal to continue working on the food list, try two new things and go visit Tony in his lab alone one time this week. Bucky could do that.

As he walks back to the apartment, he feels the soup that’s in his stomach slosh around a bit, making him want to hunch in a little closer. Instead, he swallows and tries to ignore it. The soup had been fine as he’d eaten it, and usually if it’s something his body can’t handle yet, it’ll make him feel sick right away.

His head gives a sudden throb as he moves inside the complex, and he knows it’s the lights. The fluorescent lights that like to make that low buzzing noise he’s pretty sure only he and Steve can hear. He’s been doing so well lately. His stomach has been cooperating, his willingness to tell people what’s going on mentally has been flourishing. The nightmares that used to keep him up so much that he’d be sleep deprived have vanished for the most part. The feeling Hydra is always following him has been eradicated. He’s getting better.

Once he’s in their apartment, he goes and drinks some water, remembering how one of the neurologists had explained that water helped headaches. He drinks the eight ounces quickly and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. Bucky can hear Steve in the living room, talking on the phone to someone, presumably Nat, with how his tone is slightly teasing. Or maybe it’s Bruce.

He moves into the living room and the smile that’s on Steve’s face falters, and then he’s saying he’ll call Nat back. Bucky’s confused about what’s going on but he feels good about the fact he’d known it was Natasha.

“Bucky,” Steve says in that overly cautious tone that Bucky’s grown to become nervous around. He’d used it a lot more in the beginning, and he thinks it’s been about a month since he’s heard it. It sets his whole body on edge and makes his stomach slosh. Clenching his jaw, Bucky manages what he hopes is a smile.

“Hey, what’s up Stevie?” He asks, going and sitting down next to him on the couch. Steve shifts and worries his lip with his teeth.

“Are you feeling okay? It’s fine if you’re not,” the blond says in a soft tone. He puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“I’m fine, I feel fine,” Bucky says because- well because he should be fine. He’s happy. He’s not had any ptsd issues today. He’s done things his therapist encourages. He doesn’t know why he feels so suddenly bad, and it’s frustrating to him. He feels so bad that even Steve can tell apparently.

“Buck-“

“ _Steven_ , I’m fine. Really,” he interrupts. He’s about to get up but then Steve’s palm is on his forehead. His first instinct is to pull away but he ends up leaning into the cool touch. When did his face start feeling so hot?

“Oh Buck,” Steve pets at Bucky’s hair as the other screws his eyes up.

“I shouldn’t feel like this!” Bucky erupts, pulling back finally. “I shouldn’t feel sick! I’ve been having a good day! I didn’t even have a nightmare last n-“ Bucky suddenly stumbles off the couch and into the bathroom. His knees hit tile and he’s expelling everything he’s eaten the past 24 hours into the toilet. His head throbs and he shivers, suddenly freezing.

Steve walks in and puts a hand on his guys back. “Bucky, sweetheart,” Steve says, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re definitely running a fever. You’re sick. This doesn’t have anything to do with mental health,” he promises, pulling Bucky a little closer once he’s stopped heaving for a few minutes.

Bucky doesn’t quite understand, but he lets himself be held and tries to keep thinking about Steve’s words. He’s sick, this isn’t a mental health setback. He’s doing okay, all things considered.


	10. The One Where Bucky Has A Seizure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should be fairly medically accurate, as I suffer from epilepsy myself.

Bucky’s sitting on his and Steve’s couch. He’s been deprogrammed from the Winter Soldiers trigger words for almost a year, and things are finally starting to get better. He and Steve have a small red stone in New York. They’re close enough to the Tower that if something happens, they’ll be minutes away, but far enough that they can feel like they have a life beyond being a superhero.

Sam and Nat visit a lot, like to come by on slow lazy nights and watch movies and drink beer. Bucky thinks this must be what normality is. Sitting with friends, drinking beer, talking about stupid movie inconsistencies while Steve tries not to burn the pizza they’re baking. He’d never thought he would have this.

While Nat and Sam argue about what movie to watch next, Bucky gets up to check and make sure Steve’s okay in the kitchen. He walks the few steps and wraps his arms around his guy, kissing his head. “How’s the pizza? You burn it yet?” Bucky joked, nuzzling into his neck.

Steve rolls his eyes, but there’s a fond expression on his face. “No, I’ll leave that to you,” he smirks, and Bucky gasps.

“Yeah right! We all know I’m the better cook,” he shakes his head, hair falling into his eyes. Steve brushes it away and kisses him quickly. “We’ll see about that.”

Steve makes sure the pizza isn’t burnt and let’s it stay in the oven a little bit longer. They both walk back into the living room. “So what’re we watching?” Steve asks, looking at their friends on the couch. Sam holds up their dvd of Batman and Bucky laughs.

“You just wanna feel like you’re not the only winged superhero,” he say, but takes it and pops it into the player. Tony had offered to install all the latest updates when they’d moved, but they had politely declined, wanting to feel more human.

They’re about twenty minutes in, pizza sitting on the coffee table with beers all around, that Bucky feels a sudden wave of being unwell. His head suddenly hurts, his limbs feel heavy, he feels nauseous and sick and likes he’s far off. The beer bottle slips from his hand and onto Natasha and her pizza.

“What the hell?” She says and turns to look at her friend and then stops. Bucky is sitting, eyes unfocused, and he’s swallowing convulsively. Steve and Sam look up at her words, and instantly Sam is standing up.

“Hey JB, what’s going on? Can you hear me?”

Bucky doesn’t respond, and Steve looks terrified. He tries to get his attention but freezes when Bucky’s whole body tenses up. The long haired man lets out a low, almost feral noise from his throat and then his head snaps back and he starts shaking. His right arm shoots out, trembling the whole time and he starts foaming at the mouth. Sam can see his teeth are clenched and he yells at Nat to start timing the whole thing.

“What…what’s happening?! Can we help him?!” Steve asks, voice tight and scared. Sam shakes his head.

“Don’t touch him. It’ll do more damage. Don’t restrain him. It’s best for him to be on his side but he’s not doing damage to himself like this either. When he stops we’ll move him.”

Steve’s never been so grateful for Sam’s medical training.

Slowly, Bucky’s body stops convulsing. Sam moves him so he’s lying on his side on the couch. He notices a damp patch on Bucky’s jeans, and sees blood coming from a place where he’s bit his lip.

“Ok, Steve, talk to him. He might wake up quickly or stay out of it. He’s going to be groggy and confused. Nat, how long was it?”

Natasha looks at her watch. “3 minutes 27 seconds,” she finally breathes out. Sam nods and sends a text to Stark.

“We’re going to need to take him in, at least have one of Starks doctors check on him. I can see if Tony will send one over,” Sam explains slowly to Steve, knowing the man is shaken up enough already. Steve nods and starts running his fingers through Bucky’s hair, murmuring soft words of love.

It’s another six minutes before Bucky’s eyes flutter open. He groans a little and looks up, confused and scared.

“It’s okay JB, you had a seizure, but you’re okay. It’s gonna be hard to remember, and you’re going to have some trouble talking and putting together thoughts. We’re all here though, and you’re safe,” Sam assures in that calming voice he has. Bucky’s eyes connect with Steve’s and he visibly relaxes.

“Sss’ee,” Bucky mumbles, and Steve moves closer.

“Yeah Buck, it’s okay. I’m here.”

Bucky feels like everything is happening in clips. His body hurts, like he’s been rolled over with a truck. He feels like everything is disjointed and when he tries to speak, it comes out garbled and wrong. He feels his heart rate pick up and looks at Steve again. Steve squeezes his hand as Sam talks to Tony on the phone. Nat pets his hair and he lets his eyes fall shut again

He’s safe.


	11. The One With James in Romania

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is just Bucky alone. No fluff really, and includes flashbacks of him as a child.

James is in Romania, trying to remember how to be human. He thinks it might be working. Slowly. He’s been adding things to his tiny apartment that aren’t necessities. He’d purchased two candy bars at the market that morning and still has yet to feel guilty. He turns to his bed in the corner. Maybe he’ll get sheets next, instead of a sleeping bag. He thinks he remembers himself helping a woman a long time ago, wash sheets while a young blond boy sat on a couch, waiting for his bed to be cleaned. **  
**

Snapping out of the memory, James looks around before his shoulders sag. He’s tired. He’s been living in Bucharest for about three weeks, and he’s not sure he’ll get used to the chilly temperature. Granted it’s October, and eventually seasons will change and it will get warm again. In the back of his mind, he knows he won’t be there for summer. Hydra will get him.

Lighting the small fireplace, James huddles close for warmth, sniffling a little when his nose decides to start running. He lets his eyes shut and soon he’s falling asleep, the gentle sound of fire crackling soothing.

When he wakes up again, James becomes quickly aware something is wrong. His throat is sore and his nose is stuffy. His head feels full and his whole body feels lethargic. He wipes the mess that’s run from his nose while he slept with his sleeve, giving a small, ticklish sort of cough. It’s all wrong. Maybe Hydra had snuck in, he thinks, as he pulls his sleeping bag a little tighter. The warmth from the fire that’s still going isn’t helping anymore. He blinks a few times and tries to get himself to focus on what he needs to do.

He recalls seeing a pharmacy of sorts out on the main road, and he knows he should go. Being ill is a foreign concept. He still only half believes that this is what that is. James rubs his face and pulls his hair back with a hair tie. He hastily puts the mesh strands in a bun and then snaps his flesh hand down to his nose.

A tickle winds it’s way through James’ head and into his nose, teasing him. He ends up sneezing three times, all tired. 

 

His nose runs and he sniffles over and over, trying to contain the sudden mess, but ends up grabbing an old towel that’s sitting near him, ragged and damp from drying what few dishes he’s collected.

The rough cloth seems to subside the itch for the time being, and James blows his nose a few times, though congestion settles into his sinuses. He flops back into his covers and shivers, coughing a little when a sudden tickle in his throat flares up. James decides the best thing to do now is sleep, and medicine can be obtained later, when his body is a bit more up to standards.

**********

It’s mid day. Winifred Barnes is at the stove, stirring a thick soup with vegetables, when she hears footsteps behind her.

“Mama? I don’t feel well…”

She turns and frowns, her son fever flushed and tired. She bends down to the six year old, feeling his forehead with her palm and then scooping him up, resting him on her waist. He lets his head drop to her shoulder, coughing a little into his tiny hand.

“My poor James. Seems you caught what Becca has, hm? No worry, I’m making soup. That will help your throat, don’t you think pumpkin?”

Her son nods and soon he’s falling asleep as she sings softly, rocking gently as she finishes up the stew.

********

He wanders back out to the streets a few hours later. His stomach growls for food even though he is not hungry. It hurts to swallow and he’s hoping he’s put enough tissues in his jacket pocket to last him a trip to the pharmacy and maybe the small family owned deli near it. The wind whips around him as he pulls his baseball cap lower onto his head.

His mind flashes back to the dream he’d had. Thinks maybe that was his mother. His chest aches and he trudges through the cold Romanian air, avoiding other people. His nose is still runny, but it’s stuffed up too, in the most annoying way. James rubs at his forehead, the ache behind his eyes throbbing every time he looks into a light. His whole body aches and feels far too heavy.

James wrinkles his nose a little as he walks into the brightly lit pharmacy. It contrasts with the gloomy October sky outside, and makes his head hurt a little as he gives a tiny smile to the worker who says hello. He finds the cold aisle quickly and after a minute of reading and comparing, he picks up an all-in-one bottle of blue goo that says it’s specifically for head colds. It seems optimal for his problem.

Now that he’s been indoors for a few minutes, his nose is damp and twitchy, rubbing from the temp change. He sniffles into his shoulder, rubbing his nose a little to get at the itch. He manages to hold it off until after a he’s paid and is walking back out the door.

He walks across to the small deli and greets the women softly as he looks at the board. Deciding on vegetable soup, he orders a double portion, thinking ahead knowingly. He’ll want to stay in tomorrow. The woman packs up the soup, gives him a good once over that makes James’ heart beat fast, and then adds another bowl free of charge, along with some bread. He thanks her and feels gratitude swell in his heart. He tips her all the change he has left over in his pocket.

By the time he’s back in his apartment, he’s shivering constantly and his nose won’t stop running. He gives it a few good blows and then pauses to think of his next plan of action. Deciding to let the soup reheat and simmer in the one pot he owns, James goes into the small bathroom and turns the water on to fill the tub. It takes a bit to get it warm, but he lets it fill and thinks that maybe, one day, he’ll get a dog to keep him company. A dog is good for survival, as well as companionship. It would make the hollow, lonely ache in his chest just a little bit smaller.

He gets in slowly, acclimating his body to the hot water, and then relaxes, tension bleeding out of him. He sniffles thickly and rubs his face, too tired to do much else. His mind slowly drifts back to the few memories, or at least, he thinks they’re memories, of his mother. He could vaguely pick out a somewhat tune in his head of an old hymn she would sing to him as he tried to sleep. He wished she was here, wished she could rub his back and hold him close, tell him it would all be alright.

******************

“James, sweetheart, come help me with Rebecca,” Winifred calls, and not four seconds later, eight year old James in running over, eager and ready to help his Mama with his baby sister. The two year old squirms and tries to get to her brother who opens his arms, ready to catch her in a hug. Winifred ruffles her sons hair and goes to finish up the laundry.

She manages to get most clothes hung on the line when she suddenly hears her daughter crying and sees her son running out, holding his sister tightly, panic all over his face.

“Mama! B-Becca fell, I tr-tried to help..” he trails off, white in the face at the prospect of doing any harm to the girl. Winifreds known for a long time that James is special. Won’t hurt a fly, refuses to read comics or books with anything to do with fighting. He’s special, and she’s amazed by him every day.

“I’m sure she’s alright, probably just scared her, right bug?” She asks the toddler who’s slowed her crying. She hugs Winifred a minute and James waits patiently. When Rebecca comes back to him, he gives a small breath of relief and they go back to playing.

**********************

James drifts for half an hour, half lucid. What brings him back is a loud noise outside of the apartment. His body jerks up, stiff and aware of every little noise. He looks around a moment before realizing he is not in any danger. He’s not sure how much time has passed, but he does know that he still has soup on the stove and doesn’t intend to ruin it. Draining the batthub and drying off with the large, slightly worn, blue towel he owns, he slips into the sweatpants and sweater that’s lying on the chair next to his bed, pulls on socks and then puts his hair up in a bun and shuffles over to the stove once more.

As he pours some of it into a bowl, he’s hit with a shiver and then a small coughing fit. James puts the bowl on the counter and curls into himself, spluttering for air for a moment before he’s able to catch his breath again. Hydra would have him fixed by now. He tries not to let that thought occupy too much of his mind. Once he’s back on his bed, soup in hand, he pulls the only blanket he has up and around his shoulders, and then lets his eyes drift to the newspapers that he’s laid on the bed. Everything’s in Romanian, though that’s no problem for him. 

As he sips his soup and reads, he hopes this is what a new beginning looks like.


	12. The One Where They're Both Sick

“Lay  _down_ Steven!” Bucky huffs from the doorway of where he has soup and tea on a little metal tray. Steve looks up like he’s been caught. He’s standing in the middle of their bedroom in grey sweats and a white tee, blond hair messy. 

Steve’s been sick with some kind of virus that’s been keeping him out of commission the past day or so. His throat’s been sore, he’s been feverish and coughing and congested and shivery. He’d come home the night before with a low grade fever, looking bleary eyed and miserable and Bucky had hearded him into bed and been fussing ever since.

But it’s not like Bucky is much better. They obviously got infected the same day because before Steve had gotten home the night before, Bucky had been lying on their couch feeling gross and tired. He’d thrown his feelings out the door when Steve had come in though. 

Now, Steve looks back at his boyfriend, trying to size him up. 

“I’m fine Buck! I barely have a fever anymore. You on the other hand look miserable,” he grits out, but does sit back on the bed. Bucky walks over and sits the tray down carefully, letting out a small cough away from the food and Steve. 

“Can it Rogers. I’m fine. You’re the one shivering and looking like a drowned puppy,” Bucky shoots back, but the intensity is lessened by the shiver that tears down his frame. His hair is barely up, messy and half in a bun, and his cheeks are bright with fever. Steve guides him down into the sheets and then sighs. 

“Share my soup with me?” 

“Fine.” 


	13. The One Where Bucky Hates The Cold (Especially When He's Sick)

I hope you enjoy this!! For this, we’re going to say it’s all canon, but Tony, Steve and Bucky made up. Steve is still Captain America. Bucky did go to Wakanda for help with the trigger words and did go into cryo, but then came out and went back to New York with Steve. Enjoy!! 

Bucky’s officially been out of cryo for four months, and out of Wakanda and back in New York for one. It’s nice. When he was in Romania, he’d learned how to be a human again, for the most part. Now, he’s learning slowly that not only is he a human, but he’s a human who can want things, not want things, like and dislike things. And so far, the biggest dislike is the weather. 

November means the temperature in New York is almost always forty degrees or below. For Steve, this is a gift. Because of his body always burning hotter, for it to be in the thirties is heaven for him. He actually gets a little chilly. It’s perfect. 

For Bucky though, god. It’s the exact fucking opposite. Being in and out of cryo so much has left his body always cold. Always. The only time he’s ever really warm is when he’s being held by Steve, or if he’s lying out in the sun. He doesn’t overheat during training, he doesn’t get warm under blankets. It  _sucks_. 

They’re out walking around, something Bucky tries to do everyday. Tries to go out, be human. Some days are better than others. Today is a good day. Aside from the temperature. He looks over at Steve, who’s in khakis and a light sweater. He shivers involuntarily. Bucky is in jeans and a waffle knit long sleeve shirt, and a jacket. He thinks maybe he should have worn a beanie too. 

As the day goes on, Bucky holds Steve’s hand as they shop for groceries for their new apartment. It’s small but nice, and it has a big fireplace. He knows Steve made sure that wherever they ended up, it had one. Steve’s too sappy for his own good. They go through the isles and pick out new sheets and warm blankets. Some pots and pans, new plates and cutlery. Bucky wants new things, wants to be able to share a new life with Steve. 

Steve watches as Bucky looks through different socks, before deciding on gray knit ones with a green stripe. Bucky smiles and looks up, gives a shy little head nod. Steve feels his heart melt. 

***************************

The next day, Bucky wakes up and knows instantly something is wrong. His throat’s sore, his whole head feels stuffy and filled with cement. But most of all, he’s colder than he thought possible. He trembles and gets out of his and Steve’s bed. The big lug is still asleep, so Bucky stumbles to their closet, pulls out of one of Steve’s hoodies and yanks it on over the sweater he’d fallen asleep in. 

He goes to their kitchen and works on some oatmeal for himself. He’s not really hungry, but he knows he needs sustenance, and oatmeal is warm. As he’s pouring the milk into the oats, his nose gives a twitch and Bucky sets the carton down gently. He pulls the collar of his shirt up above the hoodie and presses his face into it, half aware of how soft the material is, before he lets out two, very stifled and reigned in sneezes. 

His nose is running and ticklish and he rubs his shirt against it hard, trying to quell whatever’s making him feel so tired and like a slug. Or a sloth. He’s not sure he remembers what either are, to be honest. He hears Steve up, so he washes his hands, gets the oatmeal into two bowls, and then sets them on the table. He takes a small bite of his, wincing as he swallows. Fucking hurts. 

He’s not sure how long he stays like that, a cold, tired mess, picking at his food, but by the time Steve sits down, he realizes he’s only taken two bites, and it’s now cold. Steve gives him a smile and Bucky smiles back, resisting the urge to sniffle again. His body trembles though, a shiver running through his body. 

“Hey Buck, sleep well?” Steve asks, kind and gentle as always. Bucky nods, even though he’d been pretty restless. He tries to wrap his arms around himself as much as he can without looking stupid. He’s just. So cold. He gets up and goes to take a hot shower after he eats a few more bites, so he doesn’t look suspicious. 

*************************

“Buck…that’s a lot of layers,” Steve comments softly, brow furrowing. He can see his guy has a shirt, a sweater, and a jacket, along with a scarf. Bucky looks up, a deer in the headlights, still shivering. Fuck. 

“Honey….hey…” Steve gets closer, all slow like he doesn’t want to scare Bucky. He presses a hand on Bucky’s forehead and bites his lip. “You don’t feel good do you? I know you…you get cold, from the cryo…but I think you’re sick honey..” 

“….oh.” Is all Bucky can think to say. Because, of course. Of course he can’t even recognize his body telling him he’s sick. He lets Steve lead him back to the bedroom to change and lie down.


	14. The One With the Fall Fest

Bucky sniffles and runs a hand through his hair, trying to get it to cooperate. He’s in dark jeans and a green thermal. He’s got his standard-issue gray Shield sweater on, the one that’s warm and cozy and that Steve says makes his eyes look pretty. He thinks maybe he should wear something else, but, it’s Stark’s fall festival and he’s sure he won’t be the only one in Shield attire.

While Steve’s been off at a meeting in DC since yesterday, Bucky’s managed to catch a cold. It’s not too terrible yet, but it’s definitely dulling his senses, making him tired and slightly cranky- if the small fit of anger towards another intern for messing something up earlier that morning, is any indication.

The slight sore throat and headache he’d had the night prior, now are more prominent, something Bucky can’t ignore anymore. There’s this elusive tickle too, constantly buzzing around his head, that’s been making his nose sensitive to absolutely everything. He’s not usually one to come down with a head cold, but apparently today, the universe has other ideas. He’d taken some DayQuil before work, but it’s since worn off, and he’s back at home, getting ready. Steve’s coming from a debrief from HQ, so they’re meeting at the festival. Bucky just hopes he can look normal enough to let Steve enjoy tonight and not worry about him.

See, Steve Rogers loves Autumn. Loves everything about it. He loves the World Series that begins in October. Loves pumpkin pie and curling up on the couch with a good book. Bucky finds it to be the most endearing thing on the planet. If he thinks about it enough, his chest starts to ache with want- wanting to have been with Steve back in the forties. But it’s hard to dwell on that. They’re where they are now, and who cares if Steve was born in 1918 and Bucky was born in 1985. It doesn’t make them any less in love. It just….makes Bucky long for things he wishes could have been.

Bucky looks back in the mirror, sniffles a few times, and then goes to find more DayQuil. He also finds his denim jacket. It’s only October 3rd, and it’s not freezing in New York, but it’s definitely chilly. And Bucky already hates the cold. He pulls his jacket on, checks his phone, and sees a text from Steve.

Steven ❤️: On the way to the park now. Meeting got done a little early. Can’t wait to see you Buck.

Bucky feels his heart swell a little and he tucks a piece of hair behind his ear.

Bucky: I’m leaving right now. Can’t wait to see you either, Punk. Be there in ten.

Bucky slides his boots on and makes sure he’s got his keys and wallet, then moves out of their brownstone and starts the small trek to the park Tony rents out every year.

***************

Bucky looks around, seeing lots of familiar faces, but not the one he wants. He waves at Nat and Sam, who are grabbing hot cider. He’s about to go and ask where his boyfriend is, but then he sees him.

Steve, in all of his his beautiful, tall, glory, is taking a photo with a little by dressed up as Captain America. Sneakily, Bucky manages to grab his phone out and snap a photo of the moment. He looks amazing. He’s got on his usual khakis, but today it’s paired with a red, warm looking sweater, and his leather jacket. His hair has been getting longer, and it’s curling around the back of his ears.

Having missed him too much, Bucky takes his moment when the kids walks away, smile a thousand watts bright. Bucky walks over, wrapping his arms around him.

“Buck,” Steve breaths out, relaxing. All the tension of meetings drain out of him.

“Missed you,” Bucky whispers, hugging him tight. They’ve been together for two years, and it still hurts if they’re apart for a day. Bucky’s usually able to talk to him during missions, thanks to now being Steve’s main ops guy back at Shield. But it still hurts not having him physically there.

They stay like that for a few more seconds before Bucky turns to the side, coughing harshly, eyes watering. 

“‘Scuse me,” Bucky mumbles, clearing his throat and pushing his hair back. Steve looks at him a moment, but then let’s it drop.

“I missed you so much.” Steve says again, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s cheek. 

“You look really good, Stevie.” They swing their hands as they walk farther into the festival. It’s just nearing five o’clock, and people are starting to come in now. 

**************

By six thirty, the New York weather has dipped a bit. It’s fifty six degrees out, and Bucky, though wearing three layers, is starting to feel cold again. It’s not been to bad, not with Steve’s arm wrapped around him as they play carnival games and watch entertainers. But now they’re in line for food and Bucky’s shivering a little. Nothing sounds appetizing.

“I’m going to get two hot dogs and some fries. What do you want babe?” Steve asks as he looks at the menu a few feet ahead. Bucky shrugs, swallowing and wincing. The medicine obviously isn’t doing it’s damn job.

“Uhh…hot dog I guess,” he says quietly. Steve looks at him, feels his chest ache with love. His guy, his Bucky, looks so fuckin’ soft and sweet out here. His gray sweater, his pink nose. He looks tired, but in a way that’s still beautiful.

“That’s all?” Steve raises an eyebrow, because, yeah, Bucky’s tiny, but he still eats a fuck ton. Bucky shrugs, angling himself closer to Steve. He does look tired, and maybe that pink nose is more than just from the wind?  "Are you feeling okay?” Steve asks, mouth turned down. Bucky nods, coughing a little.

“M’fine Rogers,” he brushes off, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Ill steal some of your fries,” he winks, then walks up to order and pay.

It’s not until it’s nearing eight pm that Steve can tell Bucky’s feeling low. He’s been quieter than usual, and he seems cold. His poor nose is getting more and more pink, and Steve can hear every little sniffle Bucky gives. They’re on a small Ferris wheel when Steve finally decided to breach the subject again.

“Babe…after this lets go home, yeah?” The blonde asks, rubbing a hand through Bucky’s soft hair. Bucky looks up, and he knows. He knows he’s been caught.

“Uhmb, yeah, we can-snf! We can go if you w-want…” He dissolves into small coughs, and when he finishes, he’s breathing through his mouth.

“Poor guy. Caught yourself a cold hmm? I’ll make soup tomorrow. We can lay around, get you feeling better. Does your throat hurt?” Steve questions, rubbing his finger across Bucky’s cheek, and then down the bridge of his nose. It makes Bucky wrinkle his nose, trying to starve off the tickle that hits him. His nose is so fucking sensitive when he’s sick like this. And Steve can’t help but find it adorable.

“I can’t get sick, ya know. It’s okay if you sneeze on me,” he laughs, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s temple. He hears his boyfriend make an annoyed noise but he just holds Buck closer, ignoring his protests.

By the time the ride is over, he’s sneezed four more times and his throat is begging for some hot tea. Steve wraps his arm around him protectively and leads him out. Autumn can wait, especially if it means taking care of Bucky.


	15. The One Where Bucky Gets Strep

Steve, Bucky, Nat, Bruce and Tony are all sitting out in the 46 degree weather, watching the football game that’s happening on the large field on the south side of their campus. While there’s already been plenty of games, it seems as though this is one of the most important, probably because they’re up against one of their well-known rivals. 

Though all of them aren’t too huge into football, this game has everyone cheering and being supportive. Bucky is sitting between Steve and Natasha, with Bruce and Tony right in front of them on the bleachers, both turned inward so they can all talk- not that Bucky is really paying attention.  

Steve’s been watching Bucky for the past hour, since they’ve been there. He’s been quiet, like maybe he’s upset or something. He reaches for his boyfriends hand, takes it and squeezes it gently, hoping to get a smile. Bucky looks up and gives him a lopsided half-smile, one that confirms his suspicions. Something’s up. 

Nat must sense something is wrong too, because she leans over and says something too soft for Steve to hear, most likely in Russian. He watches Bucky furrow his brow and shrug, to which Nat rolls her eyes, shakes her head and then connects her gaze with Steve’s. The look she’s giving him is as if to signal something is up. Which. Thanks Nat. But he already knows. 

As Steve tries to think of something to ask, their team scores another touchdown. Tony whoops and hollers and Bruce claps along with everyone else. Bucky seems to hunker down in his mountain hardwear jacket, looking entirely too tired. 

(Secretly, Bucky  _is_ too tired. He’s tired and his throat’s killing him. His head is aching, he feels generally miserable and he’s pretty sure he’s started running a fever in the past half hour. The cold air that’s breezy is just making him feel worse, and all the noise isn’t helping his head. He feels kind of nauseous, but that could be from not eating anything that morning- not that he’d been hungry.

He’s also starting to get a little cranky. He knows Steve’s been watching him, and Nat had just tried to get him to tell her what was wrong. He’s fine. He just wants them to stop focusing on him and watch the damn game.) 

It’s not until half time that Steve and Nat finally have a moment to really talk without Bucky. He’s in the bathroom and Nat scoots closer, getting the attention of all three guys. 

“Somethings wrong. I don’t know what, but it’s obvious something’s bothering him.” 

“Who?” Bruce asks softly, looking confused. Tony sighs, shaking his head. 

“Buckaroo. He’s being way too quiet. Maybe he doesn’t want to be here?” 

Steve shakes his head this time. 

“He’s been looking forward to it. And we didn’t fight or anything..” he trails off when he notices Natasha looking at something. He looks up too and suddenly blindingly obvious. 

Bucky is walking towards them, face pale and cheeks flushed. He looks  _awful_.  

“He looks really sick,” Bruce says as he gets closer. Nat nods and Tony is the first to break silence when Bucky sits back down. 

“Roo, you wanna go back to the apartment? You don’t look like you’re feeling too good,” he worries, and Steve’s grateful for his bold personality. He already knows Bucky’s answer, but asking can’t hurt. 

“I’m fine,” the small man all but growls. Or. Tries to. But his voice is raspy and his throat is clearly sore and swollen, and Steve feels his chest ache. It aches even more when the talking makes Bucky give this shallow, painful sounding cough, like he’s trying his hardest not to make his throat more sore. 

Instead of trying to argue, Steve takes control of the situation. He presses an entirely too cool hand to Bucky’s flushed cheek, feeling the warmth pour off of it. 

“That’s it. We’ll see you guys later,” Steve gets up and pulls Bucky up too (not that it’s hard), and walks them out of the stands and into the top area of the stadium. 

“You’re miserable. And I get you don’t want to mess up anything, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting you sit for another hour or more feeling like this. You have a fever Buck. You sound awful, and look miserable. Now, would you like to go to the apartment or the medical center?” Steve’s voice is gentle but has just enough of a lilt to be secure and serious too. 

Bucky stays quiet for a minute before stepping closer, pressing his face into Steve’s shoulder. Feeling his heart melt, Steve rubs his back and almost misses the quiet, raspy ‘med center’ that drops from his boyfriends lips. 

“You feel that bad? Okay sweetheart. We’ll get you feeling better soon.” 


End file.
